My back fat had a mind of its own!
Wednesday 4th February 2009
Ask a woman what she hates about her body, and she'll probably say saggy boobs, flabby belly, or maybe even bingo wings. But when I looked in the mirror, I had something much more hideous to worry about. A flabby back. Sounds weird, I know. But under my bra straps, huge rolls of fat jiggled like sausages, and blubbery love handles hung over my waistband.
'It looks disgusting,' I'd moan to my dad, Alan, 58, as I craned my neck and twisted my body in front of the mirror to get a proper look at it.
He lived half-an-hour away in Blackwood, but since my mum, Meryl, 41, had died of cancer back in 1994, we'd become really close. Which meant he got to hear me constantly moaning about my back.
'It looks like a normal back to me, love,' he'd say, peering at my vest top and shaking his head in disbelief. But I knew it wasn't normal. And what made it even more frustrating was the fact that, over the past two years, I'd lost five stone, and got my weight down to 12st 10lb. I spent two or three hours every week at the gym, and I'd seen my thighs get thinner and my calves fit into knee-high boots. So why wouldn't my back fat shift? It was as though the bloomin' stuff had a mind of its own.
From the waist down, I was a size 12, but my top was another story. A size 18-20, with whopping 38F boobs and a gut to match, I lived in baggy T-shirts to hide my back. On the outside, I had a lot going for me. I had a good job as pub manager in Barry, and loads of mates. But I hated my body so much, just the thought of going on a date sent me into a panic. And now, it was just four months away from my 30th birthday and I was getting out of the shower when I caught sight of my flabby back and the horrible realisation hit me.
Is this it? I thought. Stuck with a fat back forever? Then I remembered a friend of mine who'd been fed up with her small boobs.
'Having a boob job was the best thing I ever did,' she'd told me.
'But wasn't it painful?' I'd asked.
'No pain, no gain,' she'd smiled.
So I dried off, dressed, and started looking on the internet.I read that liposuction could
suck the fat from my back, but it cost at least £3,000.
'I can't afford it,' I sighed to Dad.
He just shook his head. All he ever heard about was my back.
'Why don't I lend you the money?' he suggested.
My stomach did an excited flip. But Dad was a retired shop worker, so he wasn't exactly loaded.
'It's too much,' I replied.
'I just want to see you happy,' Dad said. 'So if this is what it takes…'
Happy? I was ecstatic.
The next day, I spoke to a woman from Europa International, a cosmetic surgery company.
'For £3,000, we'll fly you to Prague for a week,' the woman told me. 'There, you'll have a two-and-a-half hour operation to suck the fat from your back and tummy.'
Perfect! But when I arrived in Prague on 9 October 2008, I was really nervous. A man from Europa met me and took me to my apartment. At 7am the next day, a car arrived to take me to the clinic, where a surgeon explained the details.
'I'll make 16 incisions,' he explained. 'Nine in your back and seven on your front. Through those incisions, we'll suck out the fat.'
I nodded, feeling scared.
I was prepped for surgery, then the nurse injected me in the arm and everything went black. When I opened my eyes again, I felt like I'd been hit by a bus.
'We drained five litres of fat away,' the surgeon explained.
Back at my apartment the next day, I peeled off my bandages and actually screamed with shock. My back and belly were covered with angry bruises, and my skin was all puffy and swollen. But then, I turned my back towards the mirror and held another mirror so I could see it properly.
'The rolls have gone,' I gasped.
Three months on, my back looks pretty near perfect. Baggy T-shirts are a thing of the past, and now, when I look in the mirror, I still crane to get a proper look at my back. But only to check out how good it looks.
For more information, visit www.europa-international.net